Everything Changes
by corneroffandom
Summary: Short scenes leading into Wrestlemania and NXT Takeover


They're in the ring. Blowing off some stream while they wait for the doors to open and people to start filing in. Zack leans his head against his arms and squints out through the gaps between the turnbuckle and ropes at the empty chairs stacked from floor to ceiling. "Another Wrestlemania we're in the same match," he says slowly, aware that it's a touchy subject for Dolph. Another Wrestlemania he doesn't get a singles match, another Wrestlemania where he's overlooked due to everything else going on. Zack understands that feeling all too well.

He's about to straighten up and address Dolph properly when hands grip his back and shoulder, giving him a solid push up and out of the ring. Zack yelps as he flies over the top and lands hard on the mat below, glaring up at the smirk on his husband's face. "What was that for?!"

Dolph shrugs, leaning against the ropes and eyeing him. "Testing your reflexes, kid. You might want to work on that before tonight."

Zack rolls his eyes and hops up onto the apron, standing face to face with Dolph, gripping his jaw and kissing him to distraction, before slipping lower and hooking his hands under his arms... just to hoist him up and over the ropes, sending him flopping to the floor below.

"That is not legal!" Dolph sputters, staring up at the laughter crinkling Zack's eyes as he drops back down and hovers over Dolph, holding his hand out to pull him back to his feet. Dolph rolls his eyes and grips his fingers... just to tug, sending Zack down unceremoniously on top of him. "You're not going to get away with that later."

"Never say never," Zack laughs, nudging Dolph's nose with his own before kissing him again. Dolph rolls his eyes but allows it, relaxing into it and kissing Zack back with a muffled grumble.

 **-x**

Friday night in New Orleans. Spud exhales, staring out of the window as he listens to Ethan brush his teeth in the bathroom, water running, a toilet flushing, and then the padding of Ethan's feet against the carpet of their hotel room as he approaches Spud and hugs him, staring out of the window that has him so fascinated. "What's on your mind?" he asks, gently kissing Spud's nose, down to his mouth, along the line of his jaw.

"205 Live," he admits. "I'm not sure I'm enough to save it, even after the success of this title tournament." He curls his fingers around Ethan's forearm and closes his eyes, leaning back against his chest. "And then what? All of those men depending on me, and..."

"Hey," Ethan interrupts, hand resting low against his abs. "Stop that. You're doing the best you can, like you always do." He nudges Spud's downcast face up, searching his expression. "Feedback on the show has gotten more positive since you took over, right? That's a good sign. Don't doubt yourself so much." Spud's memories are still a little scattered since his bout of amnesia and Ethan hesitates over his next words, unsure what exactly Spud remembers, but he barrels on anyway. "Like we used to say about TNA, we wanted to make the company #1, and it didn't work out that way, but not from lack of trying. Daniel Bryan knows you're going to do the best you can to make 205 Live the show it should've been from the start, or he wouldn't have given you that job."

Spud licks his lips, trying to remember more clearly his time in TNA, the claims he'd made that ultimately hadn't happened the way he'd hoped. "I suppose. But for all of the positivity, there's always that bit of negativity... So many people still leave the arena after Smackdown." He exhales, then blinks hard when Ethan kisses him. "But you're right," he murmurs against his mouth, a small smile softening the worry lines crossing his forehead. "I will keep doing the best I can, and that's all that I can expect from myself."

"Damn straight," Ethan tells him. "This time Sunday, I'll be the North American champion, and you'll be crowning the first Cruiserweight champion during your time as General Manager, and we'll have a lot to celebrate that night."

Spud chuckles and casts a quick glance at the city roaring below them. "That is true, sir." He turns and wraps his arms around Ethan's neck, bracing himself against the arm of the chair next to him to reach easier. "Thank you for getting me out of my own head."

"Any time," Ethan tells him softly, stroking his back as they stand there, envisioning their futures in WWE.

 **-x**

Seth is asleep when he senses it. A familiar focus on his face. He twitches, then smirks as Dean touches him, a graze of knuckles against his stubble, up his temple. "I know you're awake," Dean informs him and Seth lets out a sleepy protest of a groan, rolling into Dean's warmth.

"Who says? I'll sue 'em for libel," he cracks, blinking sleepily against Dean's arm.

He chuckles, ducks in and kisses Seth hard. "I say. You gonna sue me?"

"Maybe," he says, squinting an eye open. "Arm hurting?"

Dean shakes his head. Shrugs. "Just restless I guess. Didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's ok," Seth yawns, pushing himself up to sit next to Dean. "I understand why you decided to skip this year's Wrestlemania, but I'm going to miss you this weekend."

Dean nods blankly, rests his head on Seth's shoulder. "I'll miss you too," he mumbles. "But you'll kick ass either way, and then it'll be a clean sweep. All of the Shield brothers, grandslam champions."

"That sounds pretty incredible," Seth sighs, his fingers brushing through Dean's mussed hair as he visualizes it.

Dean shifts, turns to look at him, his eyes softening as he takes in the distance in Seth's gaze. He hums as Dean presses his good hand to Seth's neck and tugs him in, kissing him. "Bring it home," he tells him quietly and Seth nods.

"I will," he promises, pressing his forehead to Dean's, exhaling softly, before kissing him. "I will."

 **-x**

Johnny struggles to breathe. To eat. To sleep. To do anything more than sitting before his computer, replaying the promotion package that had been put together, mixing some of DIY's best moments with all of the bad. Tries for the thousandth time to make sense of Tommaso's words, his hate, everything. It's all jumbled up.

He thinks he's delirious from sleep loss and just all around not taking good care of himself, so he blinks hard when he realizes his cell phone is in his hand, number already dialed. He considers hanging up but the longer it rings, the more he finds himself wanting to do this. So when it switches over to voicemail, he lifts the phone to his ear and speaks the truth for the first time since Ciampa had looked him in the eye and declared it was _his_ moment, all of the things he'd wanted to say when Ciampa refused to listen to anything at rehab, at his house, at FullSail. When only Johnny's fists could get through to him.

"You've had your say. I never really got to say to you what I wanted to all of these months. You were my tag partner, my best friend. You were my _everything,_ I would've done _anything_ for you. And you took it all away from me. You took our team, you took my best friend, you tried to take my career away from me. You _did_ take my NXT career away from me in the end. But worse than that, you don't even realize how _unneccessary_ it all was. I would NEVER have replaced you. What did I do after you were gone? I focused on my singles career as best as I could. I haven't partnered with anyone since, and I probably never will." He swallows hard, tears stinging his eyes. "I never knew what happened, why you left. And then... you... I learned you were injured, but it wasn't until I watched the promotional package for our match that I knew exactly how bad it was." His voice cracks. "Both shoulders, your knee _and_ your ankle? You should've _told_ me. I had no idea. I would've been there for you, waiting during the surgeries, helping you rehab, doing what I could to help you. But you took that from me too." He laughs bitterly. "And you call _me_ selfish."

He scrubs at his eyes. "You weren't replaceable then, you aren't replaceable now, Tommaso. I'm forcing myself to focus on getting my career back because there's nothing left for me. After that, I don't know, but I need this. I need my life back. I'll see you Saturday. And Tommaso? I'm not going to take it easy on you, no matter what happens."

He hangs up and picks up their old DIY shirt, running his hands over the all too familiar logo sprawling across the front, tears in his eyes as he swallows and waits for a phone call that never comes.

At an barely furnished apartment across town, Tommaso Ciampa sits by a window, tapping his fingers against his knee brace absently. His thoughts, his plans, his visualizing everything he's going to do at NXT Takeover are derailed when his phone beeps, thrums against the window ledge. He blinks, stretches, a bit surprised to see just how much time has slipped through his fingers. Grabs for his phone and frowns when he sees a missing call with voicemail waiting, and accesses the list, his face tensing up. It's a familiar number even though he'd deleted the man from his contact list months ago. He hovers a thumb over the buttons to call his voicemail.

Rolls his eyes and dials it, following the menu instructions. As soon as the first missed message begins to play, he presses _7_ and listens as the automated voice informs him that the voicemail message has been deleted. Sitting back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest and exhales, falling back into his imagination of all the pain he's going to lay into Gargano as soon as he can. To finish this so he can get back to his life.

 **-x**

Jason looks vulnerable asleep, especially after his injury and the surgery that'd been required to correct it. Chad exhales and touches him, glad that they get this time together. He'd missed him, the main chance they might have gotten together- at the Rumble- had been torn away from him with this unfortunate neck injury, but it hadn't been as bad as originally feared. Jason would be back soon, to both of their relief.

He's still lost in thought when he feels something warm and determined against his mouth and groans into it, blinking hard when Jason proceeds to ease closer to him, humming and enjoying the soft warmth this early in the day. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah," Jason murmurs. "I wanted to be up. You're thinking a lot." Chad shrugs. Then nods. "You're gonna kill it tonight." He pokes Chad's cheek gently. "Both of us Andre the Giant battle royal winners, right?" He chuckles, then ducks his head, both of them remembering the year prior, when they'd claimed that after being kept out of the main card. "I wish I could compete in there with you."

"I wish you could too," he says quietly, rubbing his fingers over Jason's knuckles. "But you'll be back soon."

"Yeah, and I can't wait," Jason sighs. "Kurt might not remember me among all of his other kids but, yeah. At least I can focus on my career again, and maybe win more title matches."

Chad smiles a little sadly. Jason had given up so much to get to know his father, and none of it had ended up the way he'd hoped. He'd tried to understand when Jason had chosen Angle over American Alpha, but it had stung. Chad had attempted to move on by his own but it had only worked so well, and although he wasn't really planning on getting into a team with someone else, Shelton Benjamin had saved him from floundering. They'd had less success than he'd had with Jason, but he thinks in time, they'll gel better, and maybe then...

His thoughts drift and he leans into Jason's hands as he cups his face and draws him in for another kiss. "I love you," Jason tells him. "And I'm glad we can at least spend this weekend together. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Chad sighs. "And I love you too." He snuggles closer, scraping his fingers through Jason's short hair. "I'm just glad you're going to be ok soon. I know it's been frustrating for you."

Jason's smile is sad. "Yeah. Probably frustrating for you too, having to listen to me complain the last few months." Chad shrugs and Jason sneaks another kiss before laying back down and closing his eyes, dragging Chad closer and hugging him tight. "Let's try to get a little more sleep before we have to leave for Axxess."

Chad chuckles warmly. "Alright." He tucks himself in close and smiles, warm and comfortable for the first time in a long time.

 **-x**

"Jimmy!" Carmella runs into his arms, his intergender title and her briefcase cracking together, causing them to laugh almost awkwardly as she pulls away and searches his face. "You look really good."

"So do you," he beams up at her, never the one to hold a grudge, even with some of the things she'd said and tweeted about him since his release. "How are things going? You looked great at the Hall of Fame."

She looks pleased that he's still paying attention to her all of these months later. "Thanks, Jimmy." She adjusts his jacket and beams. "You've been doing pretty well lately, too, huh?"

He laughs, shifting his title around. "I think so. I've been enjoying myself at least." He steps aside so she can sit down at the bar next to him and turns to face her. "It feels good to get back to wrestling more regularly, although I never regretted our time together." He taps his knuckles against the bar anxiously and she smiles at him.

"I don't either," she says quietly, putting her briefcase down on the bar next to her so she can keep an eye on it. "Sit down, I'll cover this round." She waits until James has settled in next to her, motioning to the bartender and placing their order. He looks surprised and she chuckles. "Don't look so surprised that I remember what you like, James. I wasn't that oblivious." Once the bartender places their drinks before them, she sips from the wine she'd ordered herself and hums, leaning forward to get a closer look at the games on the screens over their heads.

He nudges her after a moment and smiles. "Are you planning anything special tomorrow?" His teeth flashes as she eyes him. "Like a certain cash in, or-"

She covers his mouth and shakes her head with a small laugh, leaning in closer to him. "Why not everything?" When he stares at her in surprise, she smirks. "Winner of the first ever woman's battle royal at Wrestlemania, first Woman's Money in the Bank briefcase holder, and new Woman's champion. Sounds pretty sweet, right?" He stares at her, her hand still warm over his lips, and nods slowly. She eases her hand away and focuses on the TV screens again, not surprised when he tracks her with his eyes.

"Hey, Carmella," he says quietly. She glances at him and he clears his throat awkwardly, leaning towards her. "May I...?" She sits still as he approaches, gingerly resting his hand on her lower back. She gives him a few moments to work up his nerve before turning to face him fully, raising an eyebrow almost daringly at him. He swallows and then bridges the gap between them, careful not to touch or move too much, just a simple, calm kiss... that quickly shifts when she grips the back of his neck and draws him closer, kissing him deeply like she had all of those months ago. He gasps and kisses her back, eyes fluttering as she hums into his mouth.

She looks even more pleased when she pulls away, flushed and a little mischevious and he sits there, frozen, surprised when she doesn't slap him. "No dog collar this time, Jimmy," she tells him and he exhales, shoulders slumping as she brushes some of the lipstick off of his mouth, pulling back with a small, almost shy smile. "But there could be more of that if you want it." He stares at her and she giggles a little, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. "I couldn't say it in the locker room or on TV, or on twitter but... I've missed you." She stares at him. "More than I thought I would."

"I've missed you too," he breathes out as she touches his hand. "Carmella..."

"I guess what I'm saying is I wanna be your homegirl again." She chuckles and squeezes his fingers. "We may not work together in the same company anymore, but that doesn't mean anything. We can still see each other, and... I can visit you and your girls..." She exhales and looks up at him. "If it's something you want."

He looks away for a few moments, fumbling with his glass, before looking back at her. "Yeah, it's pretty much everything I wanted since the first moment I laid eyes on you, Mella."

She smiles and shifts towards him, cupping his face and searching his eyes. "Well, then, let's see what we can do to make that happen."

 **-x**

"I'm not talkin' to you," AJ reinforces as he walks past Shane at catering, grabbing a plate and filling it up with slices of steak, some scalloped potatoes and a mixed vegetable medley before grabbing a couple slices of whole wheat bread and a bottle of water before moving away to sit down with his meal.

"I wasn't going to force you to," Shane shrugs, watching as he makes his way through the tangles of chairs and tables. He smirks when he sees where exactly AJ ends up, maneuvering his own way slowly with a bracing hand on his lower stomach. AJ looks incredulously at him as he sits down across from him, realization dawning on his face as Shane sips from a mug of coffee that AJ hadn't noticed. Shane says nothing as AJ gapes at him, having to force himself back to his own meal.

Shane calmly sits there, looking around the room with a small smile on his face. AJ scowls harder, tries to eat fast enough to beat the words pounding against his teeth, desperate to get loose and slam into Shane with the force of a speeding train. He loses. Badly. "You are absolutely stupid!" he blurts out. Shane turns calmly and stares at him, lips twitching as AJ stares down at his trembling hands angrily. "You're gonna kill yourself because of your obsession with Owens and Sami, and I'm supposed to sit back and watch it happen, and you expect me to be ok with it."

"I never said that," he interrupts. "I wouldn't expect you to be ok with this. I'm not sure I'm ok with it, to be honest. But it needs to be done because I lost myself in this for too long, and Daniel is depending on me. I can't just leave him twisting in the wind on his first match back against _both_ of them. Can't you understand that?"

"I can," AJ says begrudgingly. "Doesn't stop me from bein' mad at you. And not speakin' to you." He falls silent at this, only glancing up when Shane's phone buzzes a minute later.

He stands up and sighs. "That's Daniel. I have to go talk strategy with him." He leans in and presses an awkward kiss to AJ's mouth, the angle weird between how AJ is carrying himself and Shane's own limitations in movement thanks to his internal injuries. "Good luck against Shinsuke. I'll see you later, champ." He rests a hand on AJ's shoulder for a few moments, then walks off.

AJ sits there and slowly rests his hand on his arm where Shane's warmth is still lingering. "Good luck to you, too, Shane," he mumbles.

 **-x**

The bed is cold. This is the first thing Velveteen Dream thinks of when he reaches over and feels around. He sits up and looks around, frowning when he sees the wave of white candles burning before Aleister Black's intense persona. "You are _not_ burning those things on my carpet!" he chides, not too surprised when Aleister looks up at him with new focus, his intensity growing the longer he sits there.

"So it appears I am," he says, slinking forward and blowing them out before standing up in one fluid motion and joining Dream on the bed, staring at him with a deep fire held in his gaze.

Dream scoffs and stands up, moving to examine the carpet while Aleister waits patiently on the bed. Dream kneels down between the candles and runs his fingers over the threads of his carpet, checking for wax. "What were you even doing?"

Aleister stares down at him. "I was trying to refocus for tomorrow. I lost my direction after Almas attacked me in the fashion that he did."

Dream stares up at him, thinking about what he'd just said, how it had felt to know that while he was angling for a title opportunity from William Regal, Almas was brutalizing Aleister so thoroughly. He despises guilt as much as he hates how Aleister had looked that night when he'd come upon him in the hallway, refusing help, clothes torn, hair wet and shivering hard enough that speech was near impossible. "I apologize for interrupting then. I can go back to bed, and you can finish what you were doing."

Aleister rolls his shoulders, shakes his head. **"** I did enough. For now. If I feel the need, I'll finish it tomorrow. Now... are you going to sit down there for much longer, or...?" He smirks when Dream pulls himself up, joining Aleister on the bed, the two of them eyeing each other.

"In less than twenty four hours," he says quietly, a finger hovering over Aleister's tattoos. "You will be NXT champion, and I will be North American champion."

"You sound pretty sure of those possibilities," Aleister comments, watching his hand with quiet focus.

"I am," he smirks. "Because once you win yours, I'm going to challenge you for it. And then I will be both NXT champion _and_ North American champion."

Aleister rolls his eyes, slinking forward on the bed to stare Dream in the eye. "Smugness doesn't become you, Velveteen Dream."

"Everything becomes me, Aleister Black," he responds, eyes flashing with some pleasure at Aleister saying his name again. "And I do mean everything." He touches Aleister's skin then, tracing his tattoos, and Aleister huffs, annoyed and intrigued by him at the same time. This more than anything causes Aleister to shift forward until they're eye to eye, Dream raising an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"You are an infuriating child."

"And yet you stay," Dream says, his smirk growing as Aleister touches him, hand rasping over his cheek down to his jaw, trailing along his throat. "I wonder why."

Aleister scoffs. "You know why."

Dream chuckles. "And you say smugness isn't becoming. Your actions suggest otherwise." He arches forward, his lithe, muscular body pressing into Aleister's, and Black hisses out a sigh.

"Impossible," he grumbles, one hand digging into Dream's jaw while the other grips his side, holding him in place as he gives in and kisses him, with the same measured intensity that he showed when he first spoke his name as an almost concession after their match. Dream reacts like he had that night, frozen and staring at him for a few moments, before melting into it, kissing him back passionately.

Once they ease back from each other, Dream smirks at him. "I think whatever you got out of all of.. _that..._ " he waves his hands towards the mess of candles still scattered around the floor, "...was just used up on that kiss."

"Maybe," Aleister admits. "Some." He stares at Dream. "Worth it though." When he leans in to kiss him again, it's a little more tender, almost affectionate, and Dream grips his arms, not wanting it to end. "You'd better have meant what you said," he says, pressing a finger to Dream's lips as he breaks the kiss. "We will both be champions."

"I always mean what I say," Dream says with an overly dramatic eyeroll, slinking back to sit on his heels, facing Aleister.

A vague smirk crosses Aleister's face. "Then we'll see if you can convince me to accept your challenge or not."

Dream rolls his eyes. "This again. Fine. I will convince you however many times I must," he says, any further complaints fading into nothingness as Aleister hovers closer, examining him. Dream acts first this time and catches his lips in a heady, slow kiss that shuts both of their thoughts up for a good long while, the future only full of indiscernable possibilities as they drift, lost in these sensations and each other.


End file.
